


You make my home

by S_Horne



Series: A May Medley [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, It's really just tony being insecure and steve being soft, M/M, national lumpy rug day, worrying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 17:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18696466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Horne/pseuds/S_Horne
Summary: “The rug,” Tony said, throwing out his arms and wriggling around on his back. “Is it lumpy?”“I don’t know how a rug can be lumpy.”“And the walls,” Tony continued, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Don’t you think that the walls need to be redone, too?”“There’s nothing wrong with the walls,” Steve said slowly. “They’re fine.”“Are you sure? Because I don’t like the colour. That couch is getting old, too.”ORNational Lumpy Rug Day.





	You make my home

**Author's Note:**

> The fair and lovely FriedChickenNisha said that it was a very strange thing to have a National day for life insurance... well, today's is even weirder. 
> 
> _National Lumpy Rug Day_
> 
> "It is the perfect time to start with your spring cleaning. Throw out the old lumpy rugs and bring in some new fresh ones. It is also a good day to address ignored issues." Quote: https://nationaldaycalendar.com/days-2/national-lumpy-rug-day-may-3/

“Does this rug feel lumpy to you?”

Steve lowered his newspaper and squinted over at Tony. “What?”

“The rug,” Tony said, throwing out his arms and wriggling around on his back. “Is it lumpy?”

“I don’t know how a rug can be lumpy.”

“And the walls,” Tony continued, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Don’t you think that the walls need to be redone, too?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the walls,” Steve said slowly. “They’re fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t like the colour. That couch is getting old, too.”

“This one?” Steve looked down at the seat he was on and reached out to poke at one of the cushions, frowning as he inspected it. “There’s nothing wrong with the couch, Tony. What’s gotten into you?”

Tony shook his head and let himself fall back down onto the rug, fisting his hands in the fibres. “Nope. I don’t like it. How do you feel about green? I always liked green. I think I could match the green in the bathroom upstairs, actually. That needs to change as well.”

“Tony,” Steve cut in, folding his newspaper and setting it to one side. He leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his chin on his folded hands. “The cream is nice. The walls don’t need painting. I mean it, they’re all fine. You hate redecorating, anyway. When Buck asked us to help him do up his new place, you nearly left the country.”

Tony huffed out a long sigh, his eyes raking over the ceiling coving. “I just think it needs doing. Get a new carpet to replace this worn one.”

“Why? Why now?”

There was a long silence before Tony lifted a hand and covered his face, mumbling into his hand. “I want it to feel like yours.”

“What? Want what to feel like mine?”

“This place.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. He was used to Tony’s brain skipping from one thing to another and barrelling ahead in conversations leaving Steve in the dust, but he was really stumped on this one. “This house does feel like mine. I live here; I pay rent and bills the same as you do. Tony, what are you talking about? What are you trying to say?”

“I just, I don’t want you to see memories of me and…” Tony coughed and dragged his hand away from his mouth, clearly changing his mind before he could mention his ex’s name. Steve appreciated the gesture, but it only made him more confused. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. You’re not the sort of guy to say anything, but, after all, I did live here first with...”

Tony bit his lip and his fingers started to rake through the strands of the rug below him, plucking at them and rubbing off loose bits of fluff that came away. “I don’t want you to see her face when you walk into the kitchen or when you get out of the shower and stare into the mirror she bought. I still feel like she’s here sometimes and the thought of you seeing her staring at you when you sit on the couch or open the wardrobes she picked out makes me want to grab a sledgehammer and break them all.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve said, voice low and gentle. His heart skipped a beat in his chest and he felt an unbridled sense of love wash over him at how open Tony was being. “Tony, look at me.”

Tony swallowed and, after a moment, he did. He didn’t lift his cheek from the soft fibres of the rug as he blinked over at Steve, eyes wide and gorgeous and lips so wonderfully red.

“I don’t see her,” Steve said honestly. “I mean it. I really don’t; I haven’t once since I moved in. This place is ours, okay? Mine and yours. I don’t care what came before – I only care what comes from now.”

Tony’s mouth parted as though he was going to speak, but after a moment he still couldn’t form any words. Steve smiled, a soft and sweet smile that he knew Tony would recognise as _his._ Perfectly content to wait, Steve didn’t move a muscle.

“I want to have a house with you,” Tony finally said, clearly choosing not to argue. “Make a home.”

“And we have. I moved in here, didn’t I? I don’t really care about who sat on this couch before I did, or who picked out that disgusting vase in the hall–”

“–oi! That was mine, you cheeky–”

“–what I care about is us,” Steve continued with a laugh. He looked down at Tony for another long moment, spread out on the rug and staring up so trustingly, before he stood up. Despite whatever Tony was thinking, the carpet felt thick and plush beneath his bare feet. The rug felt lovely underneath him as he lay down next to Tony and tangled their fingers together.

“If you want to redecorate, then let’s go shopping tomorrow. But if you like the things in this room, the things in this whole house, then they can stay. None of it bothers me, sweetheart. As long as you’re here, I couldn’t care less what else there is.”

Steve lost the ability to say more when Tony closed the small gap between them and pressed their lips together, the kiss soft and achingly sweet.

“I want to keep this rug.”

Steve smiled and squeezed Tony’s hand. “Good memories on here, huh?”

Tony laughed and shuffled over a little to tuck his head into Steve’s neck. “The best. Oh, and the ugly vase. I want to keep the ugly vase.”

“Gross.” Steve dropped a kiss to Tony’s messy hair and let his eyes rake over the walls. “We could get some art,” he mused after a moment. “That would make it more ours – or mine, if that’s what you’re worried about. I still have some pieces in Bucky’s loft that I never got around to moving. We could get some nice frames for them, hang them over there by the window.”

Steve felt Tony’s smile against his collarbone.

“And the wardrobes? I wasn’t kidding about the sledgehammer.”

“As long as they house my clothes next to yours,” Steve said, letting go of Tony’s hand to slip his arm under Tony’s shoulders, “then I really, really couldn’t care less.”

 

 

 


End file.
